The Seven Deadly Sins
by Princess Persephone
Summary: Each of our Gossip Girl Seven is guilty of one of the Seven Deadly Sins. What are you guilty of? Includes: Jenny, Vanessa, Dan, Nate, Serena, Chuck, Blair. Addresses almost all canon pairings. Only S1 and S2.
1. Jenny: Greedy for Gain

**Jenny: Greedy for Gain**

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_What it is:_ Covetousness/Greed is the desire for material and social wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of the spiritual, moral, and emotional.

_Why you do it:_ Peer pressure, social expectations, and a consumerist mindset.

_Punishment:_ Boiled alive in oil. Surrounded and inescapable, you feel your life go up in flames.

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Jenny Humphrey is guilty of being one greedy little girl.

Her favorite color is yellow, the color of greed. She thinks it looks sunny and happy.

Jenny is greedy. For gain, for attention, for friends, for money, for gossip.

"People will talk," after all. She needs to decide if "all this is worth it." Gossip Girl says "You Know I'm Worth It," right? And so does Blair. So it must be worth it. "Would I Lie To You?" Gossip Girl asks. No. Jenny trusts Gossip Girl. Jenny trusts that back-stabbing, malicious-minded cyber bitch. She wouldn't lie. It's worth it.

It's so worth it. And Jenny wants it.

Jenny doesn't care what she has to do to get ahead. She grabs the presents offered to her, she steals a jacket, she parties and drinks martinis, she curls her hair. She's on fire. Wanting retribution (she can't be seen as weak), she tricks Chuck Bass out of his pants—and he certainly doesn't enjoy the way she does it, either. Just like she plans.

Jenny kisses Nathaniel Archibald, the boyfriend of her Queen. Admittedly, it's a mistake. But she can't say no. He's so glamorous and glittery and gorgeous. Who cares if he's in love with Serena—or, wait, no—actually wants Blair. Who the fuck cares? She wants him. And Jenny won't say no to spilling some secrets to get what she wants.

Jenny loves secrets. She devours them, swallowing them whole until every last juicy rumor is burned into her memory and hiding behind her shiny smile, on the tip of her little pink tongue. She lurks around corners, eavesdrops on conversations, and gets dirt under her eighty dollar manicured fingernails digging up details.

And it totally pays off, too. Blair should know better, trying to keep such a big secret—two boys at once? Jenny thought Blair hated secrets more than anything. She should. They bite her in the ass, leaving tiny, Brooklyn-girl shaped teeth-marks behind.

Jenny laps it up, scarfing down every last dinner at Butter, evenings on Penelope's yacht, and invitations to ski in Aspen with Hazel. The attention is hers. The spot of queen is hers. She has a boyfriend. Sure she stole a dress—but it was pretty, and she needed the money—really _needed _it—and…who cares? She's forgiven. Scandals on the Upper East Side can disappear faster than the lines on the Botox-injected foreheads of society wives.

You just have to know who to please, what cards to play, what tips to send to Gossip Girl.

Yes, Jenny almost has it all. If Blair would just GIVE UP. And stop showing up to her house holding birthday cakes with her face painted in icing on them.

Then it would all be hers. And she'd been queen. As a _freshman_. The first one _ever_. She would show them. They would all love her. And everyone would love her. And worship her and-no-one-would-ever-look-down-on-her-for-comingfromBrooklyn-everagain-and-she'd have it all haveitallall-and-it-would-be-hershershershershers. Jenny's.

Not Little J. Not even Big J.

Um, that's _Queen_ J to you.

But just as the taste of victory touches Jenny's little pink tongue, Blair Waldorf snatches it all away, leaving only a sour aftertaste in Jenny's mouth and a grumbling, hungry stomach. Jenny doesn't get what she wants. Instead, she's grounded, boyfriendless, friendless, gossiped about, completely broke, laughed at, and ostracized. She's surrounded by her failed attempt; she can't escape it. Blair says she put up good fight—for a freshman. Not _quite_ what Jenny wants to hear.

Jenny pretends she doesn't want it—want anything—anymore. She tinkers with her sewing machine, ignores the people who ignore her, and gets a fashion internship for the summer.

A summer of drawing and hemming and flipping through fabric swatches. Jenny sweats and carries boxes that are too big for her stick-thin arms. Laurel should shut up. She doesn't know what she's talking about. It would look better like…_that_. It's too old-fashioned; it needs…_this_.

And before Jenny knows it, she finds herself wanting something else with an insatiable hunger.

First she just wants some recognition for all her hard work.

And she gets it. The look on Laurel's face when she spots Jenny at the White Party, wearing her own dress… Sure Jenny had to suck up to some people, but whatever. Her dad and Eric and those rich people at the party were easy to use. And she'll keep using them.

Second she wants to add her ideas. Because her ideas are so much better than half of what Eleanor Waldorf imagines. (God, why does she always seem to be battling a Waldorf Queenzilla?)

And she gets the clout. Sure she skips school…but that's only because she has no use for it. She doesn't want it anymore. She wants this.

She doesn't care what her dad thinks. He can't do anything about it and neither can Headmistress Queller. And neither can Blair with her bad-intentioned chicken noodle soup. She wants this.

She knows what to do. She knows what Eleanor thinks. She sets up the seating chart, she makes sure Serena sits in her seat, she pushes the society girls down the runway…and Blair's revenge tactics backfire for once. Blair may have deceived Serena and sent her out wearing Jenny's dress, but the critics only see genius. Too bad for Blair. Hello champagne toasts! And hello to real appreciation.

Jenny throws herself into it. She's going to be homeschooled. She's keeping her internship—she basically lives there. She's even chopped and bleached her hair in an effort to make a statement about her newly devoted life to the wonders of the glamorous fashion world. Dan makes fun of her darkly ringed eyes—but he's just jealous he's not as fashion-savy as she is. Him in his LLBean pants. Ugh.

Then she wants even more.

She wants it so much, she listens to Agnes. Who the fuck does Eleanor think she is? Jenny is the one with all the talent! If Eleanor hadn't used Jenny's dress as the finale to her show…let's be honest, it would have been a flop. Marc Jacobs would have been victorious. Jenny does all the work. Jenny wants it more than Eleanor. Jenny wants to be in on the meetings and design her own dresses and fit her own models.

In fact, why shouldn't she?

Jenny smirks a grown up smirk on her fresh fifteen face.

And again, everything is going her way. (Sure her dad is an asshole and she's basically run away from home, but whatever. She doesn't need him. The bangs on the door from her urgently knocking fame and glory drown out his voice. He's just jealous she's more gifted than he ever was. She's making the splash he never did.) She's got the guts to get what she wants (She sees Dan blink in surprise over her success).

Yes, she knows what she wants. Jenny Humphrey always knows what she wants. It's like Gossip Girl says, "All I Want is Everything." Jenny wants it all. Even more than last time. Queen of high school? Please. Queen of the fashion world? A rising star? YES please!

It's almost perfect. Her fashion show kicks ass. Lily loves it. And Nate…once again she finds herself kissing Nathaniel Archibald. And this time he wants _her_, not someone else. (She always knew she'd get him.) Everything is perfect. (Except for Vanessa's heart-broken face and her dad's threats of getting her arrested.)

She can feel it all just out of range of her eagerly searching, sticky finger tips.

J Designs has a nice ring to it.

Agnes can just shove her hangovers and petty arguments and outrageous claims of being the brains behind it all down her stupid anorexic throat. Jenny will do this. She has to. Emancipation papers must be the answer, with her dad being so unreasonable.

But suddenly Jenny's dresses are on fire and she's walking the streets of New York City alone on Thanksgiving, freezing her fingertips off. She can't feel anything anymore.

It has all been ripped out her grasping little hands. Again. And her stomach hurts. It's all gone. She has nothing to aim for, nothing to cling to, nothing to lick her little pink lips over.

Jenny is back at school, at peace with Blair, friends with Eric. And bored out her mind. She delights in freaking the Mean Girls out. They made her life hell when she cared. Now she doesn't, so she's going to pay them back. And payback can be such a bitch. Just like Jenny.

And apparently Vanessa, too. God, stealing Nate's letter? Jenny wasn't sure, but wasn't that a felony or a capital offense or something with important legal-sounding words? And Nate picks Vanessa, because she's the one standing directly in front of him. Jenny has to shake her head. That boy has a one-track mind. And apparently wears blinders.

Whatever, she'll focus on him later.

Right now she has to center her attention on the fact that her father and Lily want to merge their households. The large breakfasts are okay, and so is spending more time with Eric, but Serena needs to not try and play Barbie with her. Jenny has never been a Barbie (as evidenced by last year's failed attempt to become Queen of the Barbies). And Jenny has not, and will never be a Park Avenue Princess. Take that bitch. You want to play? Be prepared to play dirty, because Jenny always does.

Be glad she only wrecks the penthouse with a couple rowdy teens, Serena. You two might both be royal bitches, but never underestimate the enemy.

Jenny has semi-accepted her father's apparent life-long love of Lily Rhodes/Van Der Woodsen/what were those other guys' names?/Bass. As long as he doesn't actually propose with that hideous ring (Dan was stupid to buy it—Jenny told him that just because Dad was looking at it didn't mean Lily would like it…or say yes to it), Jenny is content to play board games like Hungry Hungry Hippos.

But like it or not, even if she doesn't want to admit it to herself, Jenny is still hungry. Wanting more. The greed is hard to ignore. And Nate is still looking as fine as ever…

She also amuses herself with Operation Headband: Takedown the Monarchy. Blair hasn't been Queen for ages, and the minions are running wild. They harass her brother, stealing his cellphone and his lunch. They send malicious gossip to Gossip Girl. They convince Blair to jeopardize her Yale acceptance by playing Cat and Mouse with a teacher. They need to be stopped.

There will not be an heiress to the throne. Or if there is, there won't be one other than Jennifer Humphrey.

But when Blair finally puts the tiara-esque sparkling headband on her head, Jenny doesn't feel like she's won. She thought she wanted it, because All She Wants is Everything…or at least it used to be. If this had happened last year, she would have been overjoyed.

"Is all this worth it?"

Jenny's answer: She doesn't think so.

It doesn't seem to satisfy.

She thinks she wants more.


	2. Vanessa: High on the Horse of Pride

**Vanessa: High on the Horse of Pride**

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_What it is:_ Pride is the excessive belief in your own abilities. The sin from which all others arise.

_Why you do it:_ Well-meaning elementary school teachers and/or your parents told you to "believe in yourself."

_Punishment:_ Broken on the wheel. A very public and humiliating experience.

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Vanessa is guilty of being prideful.

Her favorite color is violet. It's beautiful, and it begins with the letter "V," which Vanessa likes to use as a nickname, even if it sometimes sounds awkward. For instance, when people call Serena "S," it always sounds ten times more natural and glamorous than when people call Vanessa "V." And Vanessa came up with the whole letter-naming thing anyway.

Or at least she'd like to think she did. She's not following the UES fad; _they're_ following _her_.

She's got a ton of pride. For her family, her friends, her looks, her talent, her intelligence.

And where she comes from.

When they were younger, before she moved to Vermont and before Dan had decided he was in love with her, Vanessa and Dan used to make fun of all the rich Upper East Side kids who'd never had to lift a finger or work for anything in their lives.

Vanessa still does that, but most of the time her humor is biting. Or just rude. Because it's usually one of them who makes the derogatory comment first. And if they don't, they probably will soon.

And Vanessa doesn't take crap from anyone, least of all snotty Upper East Side bitches and coked-up racquetball-playing assholes.

They think they're better than her because they live on fifth avenue? Because they'll go to Ivies? Because their shoes cost more than her rent? Well fuck them. Vanessa doesn't want anyone looking down on her because of her socio-economic status.

Or looking down on her period.

Vanessa tries not to let her pride get in the way of things. Honestly, she does. But sometimes it's unavoidable. Like when she meets Serena for the first time. She knows all about Dan's little crush on the golden girl—but that's all it's ever been. A crush. Unrequited. Serena didn't know Dan existed.

Coming back from Vermont to find him dating the UES princess and "reformed" bad girl? Surprising to say the least. Does Dan know what he's doing? Does he know what he's getting into?

Vanessa tries to warn him, but he just ends up pissed at her, so she gives him space.

And Vanessa does come to see that she judges Serena a little harshly. But all those golden curls, and that exposed tan skin, the pouty lips, bell-like laugh, and supersized trust-fund are understandably misleading. So Vanessa accepts that her best friend and his girlfriend are serious. She tries to see past those big blue eyes of Serena, past the stereotype, and see the person inside. And sitting on the bed of some friend of Serena's, cutting snowflakes from folded paper, Vanessa begins to really see. And she can't help feeling a little envious. She sort of wishes she hadn't thrown Dan's love back in his face before. Serena seems to have it all.

Vanessa meets other UES-ers, now that Dan is dating one from the upper echelon and inner circle and sacred club and all that jazz. She brings her video camera. If she's going to see these kids in their natural habitat, she might as well look at them subjectively. Study them. And get it all on film. Maybe it will turn out to be useful.

They use everybody else, why can't she use them?

Let them know from the start that she's not one of them and doesn't want or need to be. She's happy with her "ethnic" hair and complexion just the way they are, thank you very much. Yes, this camera is for a documentary. Yes, she's a filmmaker. Yes, she lives in Brooklyn, Dumbo to be exact. Yes, that's across the bridge. Yes, she's Dan's friend. Yes, he's the one dating Serena. For real. No, she's never been to Barbados/Fiji/St. Bart's/the Maldives.

Ugh. She can't stand half of them.

She catches Blair and Chuck, the most manipulative and back-stabbing of the lot trying to one-up each other on film, whispering secrets secrets secrets that Gossip Girl better not sniff out or it will be social suicide for them both. Sex, Lies, and Videotape. Vanessa grins inwardly at the thought. Oh, they bitch and moan and threaten and bribe, just like the good children of the upper crust that they are.

Do they really think she cares if Chuck fucked Blair in the back of his limo? Do they really think she'll tell Blair's boyfriend Nathaniel Archibald?

Whatever. When she finally offers the tape to Blair (the lesser of the two evils), she gets a year of rent taken care of. Because Blair Waldorf does not like owing anyone anything. Vanessa can relate. She can sense the pride in Blair Waldorf—fellow prideful people can always recognize each other, though they often don't get along too well. And anyway, Vanessa can tell that Blair isn't quite as encumbered by pride as she herself is…but what else could a UES princess—forgive her, Vanessa means _queen_—possibly worry about?

Boo hoo, poor little rich girl.

Let Vanessa guess: Daddy/Mommy doesn't love you. So you act out/are perfect. You're an alcoholic/junkie/sex addict/OCD freak in the making. You're pressured to be beautiful/smart/sporty/etc. You can't decide which college to go to. Your boyfriend doesn't love you/loves you too much but you love someone else. Boo hoo, you don't know which shoes to wear with which dress. Boo hoo, you're such a cliché.

Vanessa feels antsy just thinking about the UES and its shiny hard world with its fake smiles and fake boobs and expensive champagne. It makes her want to go work at the café and serve coffee to normal people and count her tips and deposit her check and go home and take a bath and drink cheap white wine with her sister. And forget all about the UES.

Thank God Vanessa is homeschooled.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't practice the SAT. Granted, she only took (and aced) the practice tests to help Dan study, but whatever. She's smart. Vanessa knows this. And she doesn't have any qualms in letting other people know this too. She's well-read and thinks serious thoughts and can keep her cool like none other. It's a little frustrating dealing with Dan and his performance anxiety.

And it only gets worse when a condescending UES prince shows up, peering at her through his man bangs, and drops off some practice SAT books for Dan. They don't need his help. Dan has her. Dan isn't a charity case just because he lives in Brooklyn. So thanks but no thanks Nathaniel Archibald.

(By now Vanessa secretly keeps tabs on Gossip Girl updates online. Not on her phone, like all the UES-ers, because blackberries and iPhones and all that shit cost a lot and Vanessa is too serious to use a phone for anything other than calling anyway. She has a professional camera for her photography, a high tech laptop for the Internet and editing software, and a nice video camera; she doesn't need her phone for all those things in miniature when she has the real thing. It's a waste of time and money. So she checks Gossip Girl's blog on her computer, and has been checking almost obsessively. It's a guilty…well, not even pleasure. A something. A little lust, perhaps. Vanessa doesn't even really know why she does it. Maybe because she knows some of the featured people, thanks to Dan. Maybe because Gossip Girl blows some things way out of proportion and it's rather hilarious how much those stupid girls at Jenny's school care so much. Maybe it's because sometimes the scandals that are revealed are actually shocking. And Vanessa can have the satisfaction of knowing that some rich kids are even more messed up, and dumber, and sometimes uglier, than she is. So, since she reads Gossip Girl, she knows all about Blair losing her crown and sleeping with both Nate and his best friend Chuck—which Vanessa has a hard time comprehending. Sure they're both ego-maniacs from the UES, but if Vanessa were ever in a similar situation, she'd opt for the lesser of the two evils: Nate. Plus he's prettier.)

And Nate looks like the perfect stereotype of the lacrosse captain, incoming-freshman at Dartmouth, polished sailing UES prince that he is, from his brilliant blue eyes down to his shiny Nike cleats. Vanessa knows she must be right about him.

But inside one those SAT books he drops off, she reads a practice essay he wrote. It speaks to her. Sure he's one of those poor little rich kids, but…he didn't ask for it all. That admission allows Vanessa to ask him to lunch and apologize for her preconceptions, which Nate confusingly accepts.

And before Vanessa knows what's happening, she's already falling. Hard.

"It Had To Be You," Gossip Girl says. Nate Archibald. Upper East Side Prince. It's totally true. It just had to be him.

It's a little ironic, her falling for someone who comes from a place she despises. But she has no choice.

She's floundering in those deep blue eyes. He laughs and teases and convinces her to take the SAT. She doesn't care about college, she's apathetic, but she can't say no to that heart-wrenching smile. She shows him how to use the subway and he's as excited as a little boy. He asks her to be his date to "the wedding of the year": Chuck's dad and Serena's mom (Because UES-ers like to keep all the wealth and privileges to themselves. God forbid someone from below wrestle their way up the social ladder, like Dan tries to. Like Jenny tried to—and everyone knows what happened to her).

But it all falls apart. Vanessa doesn't know how it happens. One minute he's holding her hand as she sits in her neon orange dress Jenny made, and the next…he doesn't call her all summer. He doesn't invite her to the Hamptons, he doesn't visit her in the city.

Then, it's a hundred degrees, the city is covered in darkness, and Nate and some guy's mom are getting it on.

It's a typical UES plot: blackmail, prostitution, threats, and a power struggle. Vanessa tries to let Nate go…but when she catches Catherine getting it on with her own step-son… Vanessa tries to let Blair handle it, but that bitch is more occupied with covering it up and going out to lunch with her sex freak of an English boyfriend then dealing it with. What the fuck Blair. Grow a pair.

Vanessa is too high and mighty to wait even a day. She has to be in control. She can't give power to someone else. She can't bear the idea that someone else might have the answer, not her. Her pride won't let her surrender control. Of course it would fall to her to deal with it. She never should have trusted a UES bitch. Vanessa should know to only count on herself.

And she ruins everything. Fuck.

After Blair snarls in her face, Nate shakes his head sadly and walks away.

It all falls apart. Again. It's over, if it ever really began. And It Had to Be Him, too. Which sucks. Everyone always said he was too good for her, too high above her. Is this proof? She can't let herself think that. She'll go crazy.

But she's likely to go insane anyway, because suddenly he's making out with Jenny like nothing ever happened. Vanessa stomps home, buries her face into her violet bedspread and cries until she's empty. Only the anger remains. Deep and red.

She tries to win him back. She won't be out done by her own best friend's little sister. Jenny can't have him. Vanessa wants him. Thanksgiving has a good start and Vanessa greedily steals the letter Nate wrote Jenny. She can't stop herself from taking it. She can't allow Jenny to read it.

She tries to keep it a secret. But extortion and playing games aren't really Vanessa's thing, no matter how many times she sees them played on the UES and tries to emulate them to get what she wants. (That sick game with Blair and Chuck should have taught her that, like it taught her that Chuck might actually be the less evil of the two. But V isn't one to not try something herself.)

It's a bad idea. She confesses, tears running down her wobbly chin as she scrunches her face, trying to hold them back. She walks away from Nate and ends up in the spotlight, her dress see-through. She's naked, alone, and vulnerable in front of a screeching audience. She stumbles out the door, her pride in shambles.

But Nate picks her. Picks up the pieces.

She's surprised. But she lets him kiss her and doesn't complain.

Until she thinks he's sneaking off to kiss Blair Waldorf. Blair needs to suck it up and walk it off. Not chase after Vanessa's boyfriend like a lovesick puppy. Not only is it annoying as hell, but it's also demeaning to Blair. Vanessa can hardly watch her blink her eyes at Nate. It's disgusting. What happened to her pride?

At the Vanderbilt party Vanessa and Blair are wearing almost the same thing. Hair half up and curly, check. Red lipstick, check. White cardigan, check. Black and white dress, check. Boyfriend?

Blair checks off her list with a happy smile and Vanessa stands around dumbly.

It's over. Yet again. Just when it started. Yet again.

Vanessa hardly knows what happened (Doesn't she feel like that every time?). One minute they're planning to backpack around Europe and she's telling him to reconnect with his grandfather, and the next: he's been branded with the Vanderbilt crest and hasn't he told her he's going to intern at the mayor's office? And he's thinking about Yale and he's swapping spit with Blair Waldorf in the park and she's…waking up in Chuck Bass's bed.

God, she's just as bad as Blair. Only worse. She can't stand herself. How did she get so low?

Vanessa tries to pretend it never happened, but when she gets the acceptance letter from NYU in the mail, all she can see is Nate's smiling face and those stupid SAT prep books.

Nate and Blair break up. He tells her at graduation. He wants to reinstate their backpacking plan.

And Vanessa can't say no. Because she has no pride when it comes to Nathaniel Archibald. She wants to swallow him whole, even when she's already so stuffed she couldn't possibly get more. She's a glutton for him.

With everything else, pride overwhelms her, making her dizzy. She spins on the wheel, high above the crowd.

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A/N: So, this installment was a little hard to write. I'm not Vanessa's biggest fan, so getting inside her head was difficult. I can't tell whether this sucks or not. lol. Also, I tried to add in all the other sins in addition to pride, since it's "the sin from which all others arise." And I think that suits Vanessa, too. She always seems to be involved in other characters' business and not really have her own story. She's a part of everything, yet removed. Anyway, tell me what you think!


	3. Dan: Opting for Fury Instead of Love

**A/N:** Hmm... Not quite sure about his chapter. Tell me what you think.

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**Dan: Opting for Fury Instead of Love**

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_What it is:_ Anger or Wrath manifests when fury is chosen instead of love.

_Why you do it:_ By nature you are distrustful and suspicious.

_Punishment:_ Dismemberment. Ripped limb from limb while alive. Cut to pieces and reorganized. Reevaluate everything.

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Dan is wired for anger. He sees red a lot. He throws out the punches when it makes sense. Which is often.

Also, the people around him are pretty damn irritating.

Chuck Bass, for one, he can't _stand_. Not only does that asshole think he's God's gift to women and strut around the quad at school with his pot-lined pockets and silk signature scarf, but Chuck also never knows when to shut the fuck up. His slimy voice, calculating eyes, and vengeful smirks are annoying as hell. Dan has often wanted to punch that insufferable sneer off Chuck's face.

At the Kiss on the Lips party, Dan does just that. Because Chuck also never knows when to back the fuck off. Just because the party is called Kiss on the Lips doesn't mean vulnerable freshmen girls want to be kissed—or taken up to the roof and—

The bruised knuckles are worth it. Dan has the satisfaction of seeing that shiner on Chuck's pale face for weeks afterward, the light purple fading to sickly yellow. Showing to the world what a yellow-bellied coward Chuck is. He never throws his own punches. He snaps his fingers and has his lackeys do all the dirty work. He uses his sharp tongue to rile his enemies up until they blow it.

Which Dan admittedly does. Somehow he finds himself escorting Serena to Bart Bass's brunch, only to be confronted by the Fab Four and taken on an intimate history lesson delving into the past sex life of Nate and Serena. And he blows it, first by publicly pushing Chuck in a surge of anger into a waiter, causing a crash that distracts the UES royalty from their pampered, hushed lives to stare at the awkward-footed Brooklyn charity case; and second by turning his back on Serena.

Gossip Girl is a fan of saying, "Nothing Can Keep Us Together" in a charming, ironic way, all the while knowing that her subscribers will come panting back for more. But Dan takes it literally when he thinks about Serena. It seems like nothing can keep them together. No matter how they try, it just doesn't work. It doesn't fit, though in his dreams everything is perfect.

Even when they really start dating, he knows the ground is treacherous. The middle-class Brooklyn boy has unsure footing while traipsing through the shiny buildings and flaky upper crust of the UES. Serena seems to glide above it all, not one hair out of place, not one crumb stuck to her fingers, and Dan just can't help feeling a little resentment at how easy she has it. He'd thought she was different, after all.

How can she not be what he always thought she was? The golden princess he glimpsed at a freshman birthday party two years ago, sparkly and shiny and kind and real and a brilliant light in the drab, faded, mundane world of wanna-be's (Jenny), has-beens (his father), and ignoramuses (Vanessa).

Serena doesn't have to want, right? She has it all. She's never _been_; she simply _is. _She's not stupid or vapid or empty; she doesn't just go through the motions because she doesn't know any better; she isn't a stereotype—far from it. She's…perfect.

(Maybe that's the problem? Only it takes Dan simply forever to really see that…if he ever does.)

His pedestal view of her isn't real. He can't see the real Serena standing next to him when he's fixated on the one up above.

She slept with her best friend's boyfriend? He'd thought she was different.

She has a drug problem and had to go to the Ostroff Center? (Oh, wait, that was her brother… But still, she took the public rap for him?)

She ditches him to hang with her bitchy, scheming, spoiled best friend?

She doesn't like the fact that his best friend is a girl. She's weirded out by the fact that their parents seem to know each other (intimately—as in used to date. Which, to be frank, weirds him out, too). She doesn't see that her apparently docile and loving grandmother is a conniving, manipulative bitch. She claims to be a normal person, that she doesn't live a life of ease—yet she uses the power of her name and money to fly above the rules. She won't tell him her secrets. She lies. She drinks. She parties instead of studying. She offers lame explanations, weak reassurances, and won't talk to him.

Dan can't help it. Every single thing she does seems to set him off. Anger boils under the surface, heating his insides, twisting and stretching and making him feel sick. What is wrong with her? Why can't she be who he thought she was? He rarely lets it out, but it seethes within, hard and dark.

So he judges. He holds himself superior. He condescends and lectures and judges some more. Sure she's the best thing that has ever happened to him. Sure he loves her and they make love and have fun. Sure he loves her four-year-old laugh and her long blonde hair and her soft smile. The way she's proud of him and not ashamed of him and kisses him and doesn't mind heading into Brooklyn to see him.

But he can't help it. He judges. He's frustrated. He's confused. He's angry. He's resentful. He's disgusted.

She cheats on him? (So not really…but why not tell him the truth? Is it so hard?)

So he cheats on her right back. Is it revenge? Is it out of anger?

Nothing Can Keep Them Together.

He's known at school as Lonely Boy, even when he's with Serena van der Woodsen. He goes through life first set on Dartmouth, then Yale, English his biggest love—bigger than Serena. He writes about her and his feelings and shit that those prep school princes laugh at. He fucking hates those kids. Born with silver spoons in their mouths. Sometimes he wishes they'd choke on them.

He doesn't understand their set of rules, the way they function. The Blair Waldorfs and Chuck Basses and even Nate Archibalds leave him tongue-tied and stupefied. Fashion is everything. Grades—either you work for them or get someone else to do your work for you. Drugs and alcohol…all the time, just don't embarrass yourself. Box seats; town cars; limitless credit cards; private jets; vacations in the Maldives, Paris, St. Bart's, Monaco, Dubai, Buenos Aires. They know all the right people, they have connections and weight behind their names, Hampton houses and false smiles and daggers they're waiting to throw in your back. Dan does not understand them, and so lashes out in anger.

He tries, sometimes. He really does. He tries to help Blair with her overbearing mother, and even up her confidence to tell Chuck her true feelings (Love is love, he reasons; even if it's love between Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass, it's still love, right?). But his efforts go to waste: she still sneers at him in the hallway, turns her nose up when they meet at social functions, smirks at the reminder of his old Cabbage Patch doll, and doesn't hesitate to scheme, manipulate, or humiliate him or his friends. He can't trust her. He hates having to go to her for help sometimes, like to get rid of Georgina. Blair knows what to do, but that doesn't mean he likes her help. She's a fucking bitch. So he nourishes his righteous anger, tries to protect Vanessa and Jenny from her claws, and pretends he can stand the sight of her for Serena's sake.

He tries with Nate. He tries to be his friend, to get to know him, to even play soccer. But when Nate thinks he's offering charity. UES-ers don't want pity—but, then again, if it's out of friendship, that's another story. If it's out of friendship, they don't mind taking all you offer and then some.

What the fuck was Nate thinking, putting the moves on his fifteen-year-old sister? And then playing between Jenny and Vanessa? And then breaking Vanessa's heart?

Dan accepts Nate's "Yeah, man,"s and "Hey, sure"s with a tight smile. Fucking hypocrite. Sure, it was probably hard when his daddy was taken in by the Feds, but Dan is almost too angry to care.

He's sick of the Mean Girls laughing behind his back and sending embarrassing tips to Gossip Girl about his private life. (He has a secret half brother, by the way? What? Thanks, dad for not telling him first. Thanks for making him have to lie to Serena. Thanks for being in love with her mother all this time and never letting him know that when people said he was his father's son, _they really fucking meant it._) Dan is sick of the endless parties and mindless debutantes, the snobby girls and stupid jocks. Dan is disconcerted when stalked on the street by three middle school UES girls, decked out in Prada and Marc Jacobs, telling him how he should live his life.

He thinks he meets a kindred spirit in Rachel Carr. She's new to New York, taken aback by her students' attitudes, and has such lovely soft doe eyes…and even softer skin… She visits the gallery's café and they talk about literature and poetry and New York. She praises his writing and encourages him to do what he wants and meets him for coffee and soon she's just Rachel, not Ms. Carr.

First it's just a vicious rumor, and they both deny it, even as the "could be"s simmer between them. And then when she's fired (well, they thought she was…) there's no reason not to give in.

Dan feels good. He can choose his own path. He can go against the grain (it's not a cliché, right?). He doesn't need to listen to his father or admit that Blair was right (that bitch is never right, right?).

And then Rachel starts dropping gossip bombs that disrupt the magnetic force of the universe. Dan almost thinks Blair's eyes will shoot fire. When she admits she spilled all the secrets he told her, in confidence (in bed), his stomach plummets to the soles of his shoes.

What a fucking disappointment. She refuses to apologize? To own up to it? She lies and manipulates just as much as any UES-er, no matter how Midwest her clothes scream that she is.

God, he's so frustrated he can hardly breathe.

Why can no one live up to his expectations? Why can no one meet him half way? Why is it always Dan Against the World? (Because even Vanessa falls for the bleary-eyed prince of the UES, no matter how much she insists she's her own person.) At least when Dan was with Serena he held his own. (Maybe that was the problem—? No. He can't think like that. If he does, he'll hate himself.)

He tries with Chuck, too, even though just the name Chuck Bass turns his stomach. He finds out Chuck's deep, dark secret, the reason he's a sad, poor little rich boy. Dan discovers the secret behind Bart's success, too. But he can't use the info. His stupid middle class, self-righteous morals won't let him. Even as Jenny hijacks a gala event for her gorilla fashion show and lies and steals to get what she wants, Dan can't take the plunge. He can't push people out of the way to get what he wants, even if the fame and prestige and ticket to the school of his dreams is just within reach.

So Yale is officially out, at least at first. Then when he can just still glimpse it on the horizon, the stamp of denied financial aid hits him over the head out of nowhere. So it's off to NYU…

Even as Dan pities Chuck (his dad did die, after all), and Chuck throws that pity back in his face, Dan still can't help hating that dandified king of the UES underworld a little. Dan wants to do what's right, and he does it, but sometimes he wishes he doesn't have to.

He sometimes wishes he could be just like the UES-ers that he can't stand. When he finally graduates, he's a little surprised that he's going to miss high school. The drama and gala events and crazy snobbish tools of the Upper East Side. And for that, and his secret wish, he can't forgive himself.

And his anger seethes.


	4. Nate: Apathetic Prince of Sloth

**Nate: Apathetic Prince of Sloth**

**

* * *

**

_What it is:_ Apathy/Sloth is the avoidance of work or effort; such a person exhibits an indifferent, unresponsive, emotionless attitude about almost everything.

_Why you do it:_ You are lazy, hopeless, or lost. Sometimes all three.

_Punishment:_ Thrown into a snake pit. You will have to finally do something.

* * *

Nate often wears the color blue. His mother buys most of his clothes, and since his eyes are blue, she buys clothes to match. Almost his entire wardrobe is one color. He's never thought to say he might like a different color. Blair bought him a green sweater once, but he hardly ever wore it. His mother didn't think it looked good on him.

"You're The One That I Want," Gossip Girl says. To everyone. But at least she knows what she wants.

Nate doesn't have a clue.

He used to think he knew. Back when they were all children, everything was simpler. Now, his father wants him to go to Dartmouth and uphold the family (his own) legacy. His mother is pushing Yale. Nate had some vague idea about USC, but now he's not sure. He's not sure of anything really.

Everything feels mapped out; the tiny print hurts his eyes to even read but it spells out his life in such a clear cut path that it makes him sick. It's out of his control. Follow the path, they say, and you will be rewarded.

Fuck that, Nate wants to say. Fuck you. But he doesn't.

If only he knew what he wanted.

His parents want him with Blair. But all Nate can think about is Serena.

Blair is pretty. Serena is beautiful. Blair has perfectly curled brown hair. Serena's wavy, messy blonde locks flow to her waist. Blair wears her school uniform to school, her nightgown at night, her teadress for tea, an evening gown at soirées. Serena wears boots with shorts and negligees outside under her peacoat. Blair wants to be thin and perfect and beautiful and appropriate and in style and romantic and in control. Serena loves being out of control. Blair is organized. Serena is untidy. Blair watches what she eats. Serena eats pizza. Blair is ice. Serena is sun. Blair is a virgin. Serena is not.

Neither is Nate.

It just happens. One minute they're fooling around at the bar, the next his pants are undone, her dress shoved up and her mouth on his. The feelings Serena stirs in his stomach carry him away to a place where he doesn't have to think at all; he just floats. It feels so nice.

When she disappears, she is still all he can think about, even though everyone else seems to have forgotten her. But when she comes back, reappearing from nowhere, she seems to have forgotten _him_. Or at least she _wants_ to forget what happened.

He tries to follow her wishes, to stay away, but he can't help himself. He wants her (he thinks). Everyone's always pushing him to do something ("sleep with Blair" from Chuck, "look at Dartmouth" from the Captain, "play harder" from his lacrosse coach, "buy more" from his dealer), so he finally does something. It's time to make a decision, right?

He tells Blair. After her initial screaming, crying meltdown, she calmly tells him she forgives him and that they should just put it behind them. Ice queen to the extreme. He's not sure staying with her is what he wants…but he _did_ hurt her. He supposes it's a good idea. It's easy, at least, staying with Blair. And, after all, Serena is still ignoring him.

He tries to talk to Serena, but it seems like every time he does, he gets caught off guard by something. First at Chuck's dad's brunch, they're caught by Blair, who races downstairs to spill the beans to that loser Brooklyn scholarship kid, whose opinion apparently matters to Serena. The second time he tries to tell Serena his real feelings, he ends up not kissing her at all but that freshman Blair wanna-be Jenny Humphrey. Just his fucking luck.

Nate's luck is not very good. His mother thinks he's doing cocaine. Carter Baizen is an asshat who set him up in a fixed poker game. His father is dipping into his trust fund. Blair is too busy to talk to. And soon everything blows up and Nate is falling into a pit he can't escape from: his father is arrested, charged with embezzlement and fraud, his mother is falling apart, Blair breaks up with him, and Nate doesn't know what the fuck to do. He's the head of the family now. He should be making decisions. Right?

Maybe…he _wasn't_ in love with Serena. Maybe it was always Blair after all. She's so glamorous and giggly and beautiful all of a sudden (and Serena seems to have dropped off the face of the earth—or at least Manhattan; she's been spending so much time in Brooklyn with Humphrey that Nate almost forgets how captivating her eyes are). So Nate decides he wants Blair—he likes Blair (he thinks)—but apparently she doesn't want him.

She's sleeping with Chuck? Slept with him? There isn't really a difference in his book.

Nate doesn't make that many decisions in his life, but he knows the protocol is to break up with her—especially because everyone knows, thanks to Gossip Girl. So he does. (Sure he messes Chuck up a bit, but Nate doesn't really fight for Blair. Why would he? He doesn't like her enough (he thinks).)

He meets another girl. Vanessa. A Brooklyn barista with a wide smile and exotic eyes. He spends time with her instead of visiting his dad in rehab. It's easier, and when has Nate ever not done what is easy? She's cute and he convinces her to take the SATs and he even invites her to the Van der Bass wedding, where, somehow, he reconciles with Chuck, punches his escaping coward of a father, and feels more lost than ever.

Nate is stretched, stuck in a game of tug of war from all sides.

To escape, to forget, to put off responsibility, to procrastinate any decisions he should be making, he hides in the Hamptons, ignoring Vanessa's calls and observing Chuck and Blair's games of cat and mouse.

Catherine is even better in bed than Serena was. Of course, she's married…but does that really matter? She wants him, and he wants her (he thinks) and it's simple, right?

Or at least he thought it was simple. Suddenly everything—_everything_—is complicated again. His mom is out of money and went behind his back with Chuck to get some, Chuck didn't tell him, the Feds are making an inventory of everything they own, Catherine is jealous and won't leave him alone even though it's dangerous now that they're back in the city, and Vanessa seems so stable and safe and a good choice again. Can't he catch a break? All he wants to do is sleep and roll up a few joints and listen to his iPod and forget and just float away on a fucking cloud…

Somehow, thankfully, Blair gets rid of Catherine (however that happened…although her fake boyfriend Marcus went with her…), but Vanessa and he "aren't friends" and he's squatting in his park avenue apartment and he's sick to death of everyone knowing who he is. It's not _his _fault his father embezzled money and made bad investments and stole millions. He follows his mom's advice to visit Yale, but the douche bags there aren't willing to forget what the Captain did anytime soon, so that college trip was a complete bust (except for hooking up with that one girl…what was her name again?). No matter what his mom says, he's not going to Yale. It's a fine school and all, but he can't imagine having to put up with those Skull and Bones assholes every day. It would take too much work.

Nate decides to be friends with Dan Humphrey. At least they have hot water in Brooklyn. It's a good idea, he thinks—that is, until Dan slams him up against a wall and yells at him for kissing Jenny.

Although, Nate feels that kissing her wasn't really his fault. He was the one who rescued her (in her bra) from that creepy photographer. And he supervised her fashion show—that crazy model couldn't take all the credit, could she? So Jenny's mouth happened to get in the way and meet his now and then, so what? Does Dan really have to play over-protective big brother all the time? It's not like Nate is Chuck Bass for crying out loud.

Fine, fine. Nate leaves. He likes Jenny (he thinks), but it won't be easy. So why not go away? He writes her a letter. Real mail is so slow. Even slower than e-mail. That way he can escape faster.

At home, his father miraculously shows up again and wants to take them all away to somewhere where the Feds can't get them. The Captain wants to be with his family. Nate thinks it's an okay idea. He remembers how the Captain used to take him sailing on the family yacht. Maybe they'll finally do father-son things again.

In fact, he's almost convinced until Vanessa and Chuck track him down.

And they're pretty persuasive, too. So, he takes their advice and convinces his father to turn himself in. That's easiest in the long run. He won't have to be on the lookout for Feds and stay out of the US forever this way. And the Vanderbilts will help now that the Captain's out of the picture.

Vanessa (whom he likes again…he thinks—well, he likes her better than Jenny right now, at any rate) convinces him to reconcile with his grandfather. The Vanderbilts welcome him home with open arms and it feels good. Now there's someone there to believe in him, to pat him on the back, to make him feel like he belongs. Grandfather loves him and encourages him to take an internship at the mayor's office for the summer. It certainly sounds good. Europe with Vanessa just doesn't come up to par in comparison.

In fact, Vanessa in general just doesn't come up to par. Stop crying about Europe, Vanessa. You should be celebrating the fact that Nate reconciled with his family, like you wanted.

Vanessa leaves the Vanderbilt family anniversary party early, and Blair steps up in her place. Both girls are wearing black and white dresses, cream-colored cardigans, and have their hair pinned back in a half-up do. Nate almost would not have noticed that it's Blair and not Vanessa left standing there, gazing up at him, if not for the fact that when he takes her home, the towncar heads uptown rather than to Brooklyn. Blair is a better choice (he thinks). She loves family legacies and understands about clubs and dinners and expectations.

Yes. Suddenly everything's back to the way it was. Nate and Blair. King and Queen. Destined for greatness.

He tries not to notice the half-pained, half-longing looks she sends Chuck when she thinks no one is looking. He tells himself she's different—losing Yale and Chuck and everything has changed her.

But it turns out that everything really is the same as it always was. Grandfather is still as manipulative as ever (having the Captain investigated by the FBI? How familial, Grandfather). And Blair is a high school princess who accidentally fell for Nate's best friend.

It's a little annoying to catch them acting all innocent about meeting on the street "by accident."

"It's no big deal," Blair says. "You know that, right?"

Nate tells Chuck to let Blair go. Chuck tells Nate to pee on Blair.

"She's the one that I want," Nate insists. He at least thinks so, anyway.

It all comes to nothing. Blair leaves him at Prom with a cardboard crown. Nate leaves high school with Gossip Girl's title of Class Whore.

Sure he seems to get around, but was he a whore? Women just naturally flocked to him—Nate can't help it. And besides, he spent most of his adolescent life kissing Blair with no tongue (her rules). He has to make up for lost time.

High school is over. Nate just wants to escape it all. He doesn't want to think about the fact that his best friend and former girlfriend have gotten together (again). He doesn't want to think about going to Columbia in the fall. He doesn't want to think about Grandfather's plans for him. Nate has had enough plans. He's followed plans his whole life. He doesn't care about the rules.

Maybe in Europe he'll find what he's looking for, whatever that is. Vanessa did smile at him after all. It'll be fun.

He thinks.


	5. Serena: Golden Princess of Gluttony

**Serena: The Golden Princess of Gluttony**

**

* * *

**

_What it is:_ Gluttony is the uncontrollable desire to consume more than is required.

_Why you do it:_ Weaned improperly as an infant. A troubled and unguided childhood.

_Punishment:_ Force-fed rats, toads, and snakes. (Betrayers of secrets, social climbers, and douche bags; people you have to put up with because you're too blind to see them for what they are.)

* * *

You wouldn't think it to look at her, but Serena is as gluttonous as a pig.

Gossip Girl says, "I Like It Like That." Serena certainly does. She can't say no. She can't control herself.

She's the slutty whore, the blushing princess, and the paparazzi's darling IT girl.

She's done it all. Really. The parties, the sex, the drugs, the booze, the fashion, the luxury, the travel, the gossip, the press. The scandal. The excuses, the cover-ups, the black outs.

Party hard, die young. That's her motto.

Or at least, it used to be.

Serena tries to control her voracious appetites. She tries to turn over a new leaf. She tries to change.

Goodbye Svetlana and Savannah and Sangría.

Fresh off the train from boarding school, Serena tries to meet Blair's eyes, avoid Nate, and give the boy she's never talked to a second chance.

The start is rocky. Dan appears to have a problem with how much money she has, or something.

"This world is crazy," he says. "And you're part of it."

"What, and you didn't know that?" she asks.

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I thought you were different."

Um…it's not _her_ fault she's privileged. If Dan wants someone to blame, blame her golden-fingered ancestors, gin-drinking granny, and multiple-divorcée of a mother. Serena can't help who she is. Even when she's at Chuck's dad's brunch as Dan's date, Serena has to sneak off to secretly meet up with Nate.

But it's not her fault! She swears.

First Blair hates her (framing her as a teenage drug addict in rehab at the Ostroff Center? Really, Blair?). Then they're friends again.

But it seems like no matter what she does, no matter how she tries, everything just falls into Serena's lap. Love, affection, adoration, worship galore. She and Nate fucked (despite his commitment to Blair). Eleanor wishes Serena was her daughter. The girls at school still bow to her opinion. She's invited to every party. She kills at Guitar Hero, her teachers adore her, she's traveled the world. There's a perfume named after her tears, someone made a movie about her life, and her hair always looks fabulous. She's blonde, and beautiful, and everything always fits. Everything always looks good, no matter if she threw it on before racing out the door, or even if she just rolls out of bed. She glows like an irresistible, exotic flower, the scent so alluring the poor petals are slightly puzzled with the butterflies that hover for days and days and days. Nate isn't over her. Dan is in love with her. Chuck tries to hook up with her (well…he tries to hook up with anything that has a vagina, so…). Carter still wants her. That guy from Dalton keeps texting her. And the super cute bellboy always throws her an inviting wink.

She can't help lapping it up like a puppy.

(Unlike Blair, who seems to lap it up and then spit it out. Serena tries to be there for her friend (it's what friends do), but she does not understand why Blair purges. Control? The only thing Serena needs to control is how much she parties, which has been going fine. Sad? Serena is never sad—sure she cries sometimes, but laughter is inevitably right on its tale. Low self esteem? Um…Serena doesn't even know what that is. Plus, throwing up tastes bad. Serena doesn't like when things taste bad. She likes to scarf down yummy things, like champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries and cheese burgers and foie gras and Rufus' waffles. Serena doesn't know what she would do if she got a bad taste in her mouth… spit it out and never do it again??)

Serena can get away with saying she wants to "bag as many billionaires as she can before she's thirty" because…she's _Serena Van der Woodsen_. Golden mermaid dress aside. (In fact, the mermaid look works for her _because_ she's Serena Van der Woodsen. Following Cotillion, that custom couture dress pattern showed up in every high fashion label worth knowing in the spring.)

Everybody adores Serena Van der Woodsen. And she loves them all back. She loves them all.

And she loves the attention. And she loves the gossip. And she loves the perks.

Dan thinks she's privileged…and he's right. Even when she tries to do the right thing and turn herself in for the poor pool party mishap, there's always somebody out there looking over her shoulder, making sure she doesn't get her dainty toes too wet. It's not like she asked for Bart Bass to intercede. It's not like she asked Chuck to tell him about it.

Ugh, Chuck Bass. The bane of her existence. Serena seriously thinks he lives to torture her. Pervy comments. Befriending impressionable young Erik. Sending her disgusting (and illegal) "presents." It's his own fault Bart kicked him out of the family penthouse (though really, Serena almost wishes she would be blessed that way, and not have to deal with Bart and Lily's revolting pre-marriage bedroom eyes and innuendo). It's no wonder Chuck is friendless and girlfriendless and his own father can't stand the sight of him.

It tastes so good to hate Chuck.

Until Georgina comes to town. That kEraZy b!tCh always knows how to make Serena say yes. It's been such a long time! Party? Ok! Drinks? Ok! Coke? Ok!! Party?! OK!!! Savannah and Svetlanna?! OK!!!! Serena LOVES G!!!!!!! It's so good to giggle and guzzle and shine in the center of the club, a giant golden halo surrounding her.

It's good until the next morning. When Serena realizes that she's missed the SATs. And that she has to ask Chuck, her future stepbrother (UGH) for help. Thanks a lot, Georgina. You crazy bitch Serena hates you. Serena can't stand your dark eyeliner and raised eyebrow and pale lipstick and conniving smirk. Serena hates Georgina, the rat-faced bitch. Serena hates getting roofied and lied to and being blackmailed. She hates lying to her best friend and future step brother and her boyfriend butshehasnochoice. She has no choice.

She's killed someone.

(Serena always was a drama queen.)

As always, everything turns out all right. Chuck and Blair clean up her mess, Dorota cleans up the _actual_ mess she made in the bathroom, Lily pats her on the head and hooray G is gone!

And with her goes the last Sparks of her love for Dan. Oh, they "breakup" for the summer and "hookup" in August and "breakup" again…but the fizzle starts dying when Georgina enters the scene, barely bubbles a little when she leaves, and is completely flat by the time school comes around in the fall. And flat _anything_ (soda, boobs, shoes, and especially romance), does not leave a good taste in Serena's pouty mouth.

So the rightful queen bares her teeth, kicks Dan in the stomach, and ties a scarf around Blair's pale elegant neck. God, it tastes good to order Penelope and Hazel around (those little social-climbing toads), to coordinate with the girls, to shake her head at Dan (we think you're a joke, shove your hope where it don't shine) and know he's being ostracized by the rest of his classmates just because of her say so. Gossip Girl may have the power to blast a subject here or there, and Blair might dress the part and narrow her eyes and lift up her chin to her heart's content, but Serena is the true queen. Everything is just so _easy_; it falls in her lap; she can't _not_ do it.

She can't say no to Poppy dragging her around to all the hottest clubs in the city. She can't say no to being the finale to Eleanor's fashion show. She can't say no to stealing Yale from Blair—the Dean gushed and Blair freaked and it was _so_ easy.

Serena eats up the attention like the whore she is.

When Aaron Rose asks her out, she goes along with it. But Serena is used to being the only whore in the picture—not just a face in a long line of current women. She is a shining star, not to be outshined by Blair or anybody else, least of all some artsy hipster bitch from Queens.

Even in the midst of the funeral for the Billionaire Building Baron (Big Bad Bart Bass), Serena is still in the spotlight: in the middle of a tug of war between two boys who are equally in love with her. Aaron frowns and grabs her hand, Dan smiles and holds her tightly. And Dan—who is, let's face it, a little flat for Serena's taste—even _he_ is bubblier than Aaron and his monotone voice. And Aaron turns out to be a douche (thank God, too, because pretending she's given up alcohol is a too long stretch from the truth, even for Serena, whose lips lie so well and always match her eyes when they do).

So as her best friend is trying to purge her feelings (and stomach?) and gets lost in the machinations of Jack, and as her step-brother retreats from the sweet and flakey upper crust into the shady world below (which he's done before, and always recovered from), and as her widowed mother tries to keep a secret buried, and as her little brother tries to swallow down his hurt and ignore the unused scotch decanter—basically as the world falls apart, Serena parties it up in Argentina. Things may be going badly for everyone else, but nothing ever rains on Serena's parade. She is sunshine and flowers and kittens and sugar and spice and everything nice, after all.

Winter break is so much fun! And when she returns to the Upper East Side, golden curls fresh and bouncy, her low-cut white sweater clinging to her curves, and her latest Mackage leather jacket all the rage, Serena immediately hooks back up with Dan. Why not?

Although, it gets a little complicated (doesn't it always with them?). Their parents appear to have had a child together. And are still in love. And being the step-sister of her boyfriend…even for Serena, that's a little icky.

It doesn't taste very good.

Dan spouts off about boxes and compartmentalizing things and keeping everything separate, but Serena does not understand what he's talking about (and she doesn't understand the opera, either_. Tristan und Isolde_? First of all, Isolde is a gross name. Second of all, why didn't she just divorce that stupid king guy and marry Tristan if she loved him so much? She was a queen, after all. And everyone knows that queens have all the power.)

Apparently those boxes or whatever don't work for Dan. One minute she and Dan are making out on his bed, the next, he's meeting Serena's English teacher for coffee late at night and touching her cheek in a way that advertises to the world that their meeting is not one of a normal student-teacher relationship.

Seeing that does funny things to Serena's stomach. Dan and Rachel Carr does not a good thing make to Serena.

So she dumps his ass, flirts with a play director (all the good ones are gay…), vents her anger at Blair, and throws a temper tantrum when Jenny the retro-snob tries to ruin her own birthday party. Jumping a plane to Spain is the perfect get away from it all. And so are Gabriel's deep blue eyes (which match her own, btw. Serena has always believed that good things come in pairs. Like shoes. And tight jeans. And diamond earrings).

Now she has a tall, handsome, blonde and blue-eyed boyfriend (So what if he was with Poppy first? He chose Serena, that's all. Gabriel knows a good thing when he sees it. And Poppy shouldn't cry about it, either. Wasn't she the one who told Serena to shine? Poppy shouldn't cry if (and when) Serena outshines Poppy. It's not Serena's fault). Gabriel is a man. He has a deep voice and broad chest and an honest-to-God business. No more high school boys for Serena.

Though…that business doesn't turn out to be all that honest.

Or real.

And neither is the façade of Gabriel or Poppy. Both are just conniving snakes who are trying to dupe UES royalty into giving them billions. Serena is pretty disappointed in Gabriel. And pissed off as hell at Poppy (that bitch was her friend! Doesn't she know that it's girls before pearls?)

Serena is primed to make Poppy pay—but her mother has other ideas. As in, No-Serena-don't-cause-a-scandal-I'm-sending-you-to-jail-instead. (Yeah, like no one would think being sent to prison by your own mother wasn't scandalous.)

Whatever. Georgina works her scary magic on Poppy and they get the money back. Not that Serena wants to know exactly what G had to do in order to get it…but she knew things would work out.

Everything always does for Serena Van der Woodsen.

And where does Gossip Girl get off on saying that Serena Van der Woodsen doesn't matter? Hello Gossip Girl, you're blasts would be cut in half if you never blogged about Serena Van der Woodsen. And Serena is not irrelevant. She is the shit (or well, maybe not that. Serena is more the blitz, the glam, the party—the _it_ rather than the _shit_. Shit is gross. And Serena is anything but).

Serena Van der Woodsen makes Page Six all by herself—she doesn't need Gossip Girl! Her golden curls are copied in every hair boutique in Manhattan (the Rachel is out, the Serena is in). Her form is featured in fashion shows. Her tears name a perfume. Her smile inspired an entire art show. One of her dark orifices is featured in bus ads. No one can get away from Serena Van der Woodsen. She's fucking everywhere. [1]

And Serena likes it like that.

She wants to be everywhere, inescapable, her face plastered on every building and billboard and magazine cover. She loves the attention: the stories, the invites, the press and paparazzi and pictures. She loves seeing that gleam of interest in boys' eyes, and that awed and envying look on girls' faces. She loves how everyone knows her name. She owns New York, the fashion scene, and the Internet. She is beautiful and envied and gets in to any college she wants and wears whatever she wants, and is always in vogue. She is IT. (And maybe she'll finally get the attention she longs for…More than a short hug and wallet full of credit cards from Lily. More than an unopened returned letter from her father.)

Who is Serena trying to kid? She doesn't want control—she isn't _made _for control. She's wild and hot and glamorous and everything a girl should be. She's the golden princess at the top and everyone falls to her feet, catering to her every wish, cleaning up her messes, drying her tears, feeding her juicy, delicious things.

Serena licks her lips and wants it all. She doesn't even care if she chokes.

* * *

[1] Gossip Girl by Cecily von Ziegesar.


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